


Sinner's Delight

by themunchking (themuchking)



Series: Mob!AU [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, alternative universe, mob!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 21:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuchking/pseuds/themunchking
Summary: Credence is like silk, and he loves to be wrapped in it.Or—Credence greets Percival after a long day.





	Sinner's Delight

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this almost a full year ago but never posted it because it was meant to be part of a much plottier fic that never ended up being written. I was going through the files on my computer and figured I might as well post it now.

Percival Graves returns home from a long day of tedious meetings with suppliers and the lower ranks with the simple desire to have a glass of Scotch and a solid night’s sleep. Instead, when he makes his way to the master bedroom, he is greeted with the sight of Credence lounging in an armchair, framed by the window and dwindling evening light, wearing nothing but a silk robe Percival bought him. His soft, pale legs are tucked underneath his body and in the moment his pale skin seems to glow.

When Credence sees him, he gives him an easy smile that would have been impossible when they first met, and twirls the stem of his empty wine glass through his fingers. On the table next to him sits Percival’s favorite bottle of Scotch and a waiting glass. Percival raises an eyebrow, because it’s the only thing he can do not to grin at the sight. 

“Good evening, Credence,” he says.

“Good evening Mr. Graves,” the boy replies. 

Credence carefully unfolds himself as Percival eases out of his smoking jacket. He holds the garment in one hand and beckons Credence over with other. Percival stands expectantly in front of the large bed. This time, he does give an amused grin as Credence takes his time with the walk over, crawling on top of the duvet before settling on his knees at the foot of it. With his doe eyes he gazes up at Percival, lips parted in a way that he knows makes him look obscene. 

Self-control is a game Percival loves to play, and Credence has been an impeccable student of it. 

Credence takes the velvet jacket and lays it carefully besides him on the bed and moves onto the cufflinks. His hands are slim and delicate compared to Percival’s and they slide over his clothes reverently. The cufflinks end up folded into Percival’s hand—by the time he brings them to their home on the dresser Credence has moved to sit with his legs out in front of him, dangling off the bed. The beautiful V his body makes is a perfect-looking place for Percival to press his own body into. 

So he does. 

Credence’s bare feet run softly against the sides of Percival’s legs and the boy undoes each button of the pressed white shirt. Credence bites his lip in concentration. It must be impossible for him not to notice the stark line of Percival’s erection in his slacks but Credence chooses not to mention it, at least not yet, in the same way Percival doesn’t address the unforgiving nature of the silk robe. 

When the shirt is off it comes to rest next to the smoking jacket. With both hands pressed to Percival’s ribs, Credence leans in and presses a long, hot kiss to Percival’s abdomen. The older man’s hands, still adorned with rings, run through the boy’s dark locks, nails scratching against his scalp in a way that elicits a muffled moan. 

Jesus, Percival is so hard he could die. But not yet, not yet. 

Credence looks up through his lashes before reaching for his belt. Percival needs only to glance downwards for an understanding to pass between them. The belt comes out of its holds efficiently, because the real game is yet to come. Credence moves to the button of his slacks but Percival places a hand on the top of his head and pushes his gaze down, to the floor. Credence tries to twist his head upwards in confusion, but Percival keeps a firm grip. 

“I’m still wearing my shoes, Credence,” he says. The boy’s gulp is nearly audible. He slides onto to his knees on the floor, though the gap is barely wide enough for him to fit without brushing Percival’s erection. Credence has become more insecure, now, shyer in his surprise. Percival allows himself to think of how lovely it would be to press the boy into the carpet with his foot, jerking off above him while Credence uselessly tried to find friction for his own release. 

Maybe another time. 

“John 13:1-17,” Credence whispers, barely audible. However, in the electric silence of the room one could hear a pin drop. 

“Does the Bible support foot fetishes?” Percival muses. Credence shakes his head. Percival lowers his voice further. “Come now, Credence, almost finished.” 

When his shoes and socks squared away, Credence rises. Percival wraps an arm around his waist and moves forward until the boy has the backs of his knees pressing awkwardly into the mattress in a balancing-act. Credence is powerless, at the mercy of Percival’s strength. The man’s other hand comes to thumb at Credence’s bottom lip. Their faces are close enough that the only thing between them is the digit. 

“Tell me boy, have you been good today?” Credence’s breath comes out raggedly. “Have you been patient waiting for me for hours while I do my work? Wrapped in your silk like a present?” 

“Mr. Graves,” Credence groans, hands scrambling for purchase. Percival lets him fall back against the bed and the startled boy yelps. With a captive audience, Percival finishes undressing himself. 

“Please hang these things up. We wouldn’t want them to crease, would we?” Percival, fully nude, erection straining, walks as casually as he can to the table with the Scotch and pours himself some. Credence whines, high in his throat, but after a moment Percival can hear him slide off the bed and pad over to the closet. He downs his drink quickly and positions himself on the center of the bed and strokes himself once, twice. 

Credence comes back into sight and stops immediately. In one movement he undos the tie to his robe and stands, lean and beautiful, all for Percival’s own pleasure. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re gorgeous?” Percival asks.

“Just you, sir.” Credence answers.

“Good. If anyone did, I’d have them killed. Now come here sweet boy.” 

Credence practically bounds over and crawls over the bed into Percival’s lap. They groan when they rub together and meet in a wet clash of lips and teeth. Credence kisses like his life depends on it; he kisses like he needs to breathe. Percival wraps his arms around him, one around his waist, the other up and around slim shoulders. 

It’s an astonishing thing, how pliant and easy Credence moves in his arms. Here in bed there is hardly any evidence of the trembling boy who sat in Percival’s parlor all that time ago. He gets worked up easily to where there is a constant stream of whimpers and moans in Percival’s ear, just from petting and kissing. 

With a firm grasp on the thin hips Percival gets Credence rocking in his lap, and once the rhythm is steady takes them both in hand. 

“Nnnnngh,” Credence whines, two hands pressing against Percival’s chest for support. His short, manicured nails press into the skin there, creating perfect little crescents that will fade by morning. 

“Please Mr. Graves— ah, Percy, Percy please,” Credence begs. The sound of his given name rips a hoarse growl from the older man’s throat. There is only one person who is allowed to call him Percy, and it’s the boy moaning and rocking so perfectly right now. He loves it when Credence begs. 

“What is it,” he breathes. “What is it that you want sweetheart. Tell me baby boy.” 

Credence throws his head back wildly, makes a noise that signals he’s about to come. Index and thumb forming a ring, Percival squeezes him around the base of his cock, on the edge of painful. Credence’s moans turn to cries when his release it robbed of him. 

“Did you say you wanted to come?” Percival asks. Credence, eyes screwed shut, shakes his head. 

“Percy, I want you in me. I feel so empty without you, please, Percy.” 

Percival rolls them over quickly and stays long enough on his elbows to kiss Credence in ways that are truly filthy. Before leaning to the nightstand for the bottle of lube he nips at the boy’s plush, kissed lips. He rises so he’s sitting back on his heels and takes a moment to admire Credence— his dark hair laid out across the pillow like a halo, flush from kisses. Credence laughs, a short, musical note, and lifts one foot so his heel hooks over Percival’s shoulder. 

“I think about you all day,” Credence says. When he shifts, a line of precome trails after his cock. 

“Keep talking baby.” Percival slicks up one finger and slides it inside.

“I think about—ah—I think about waking you up in the morning and you opening me with your fingers until I’m begging for it. But you don’t do anything, just—please—leave a plug in me and I have to wait until you’re done for the day.”

“Jesus Mary and Joseph,” Percival swears lightly. He adds a second finger and soon after a third. Credence squirms a bit at first, stretched just to the point of being uncomfortable. 

“And when you come home I’ll be all slick and ready for but I won’t have come once, I promise Percy. I’ll have been so good all day just for you.” 

Percival removes his fingers and pulls roughly at Credence’s hips until he’s exactly where he wants him. By now Percival is panting, heavily, unable to wait a moment longer. When he pushes into the hot, tightness of Credence the boy scrambles at the headboard for purchase. There are days when Percival likes to go slow with shallow, short strokes. Today is not one of those days. He pushes in all the way until Credence is groaning loud and open. Percival kisses, licks the sound from his mouth, eventually moving down to bite at Credence’s neck. 

Credence rakes his nails down Percival’s back, breath hitching with every thrust. The first time Credence started talking during sex was a surprise, but a welcome one. Now he knows the words that will get Percival going. His boy, always so responsive. 

“Sometimes— I think about going to an important dinner with you, dressed up like a doll, with your come plugged inside of me,” Credence says softy into Percival’s ear and he nearly comes immediately just at the thought. “Everyone looking at me but I know I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Percival growls harshly. He grabs between their bodies, slick with sweat, for Credence and rolls his thumb over the head, how he knows Credence likes it. The boy’s stream of words becomes incomprehensible. He can only make out the occasional Percy, which only drives him on. He drives into Credence with abandon, until neither of them can even think of talking anymore. 

Credence throws a forearm arm over his eyes and Percival grabs at it, entwining their hands together on the sheets instead. Credence comes with a strangled cry, hips jerking helplessly, looking into Percival’s eyes all the while. His body slumps with exhaustion but his eyes and hips urge the older man to keep going. 

Percival comes with Credence's name on his tongue. He slips out carefully, Credence protesting at the loss, and settles on top of the smaller body comfortably, and his new pillow doesn’t seem to mind. Credence’s chest lingers with the taste of salt from sweat and come, and Percival blows gently on the surface, following each breath with a ghost of a kiss. 

Idly Credence twirls a piece of Percival’s hair that has fallen out of line with his usually combed-backed locks. Percival looks up and smiles at him. Credence’s hair, growing longer each day, is mused prettily. 

“I need to wash up, Mr. Graves,” Credence says. He tries to push up with his knees, but although they are the same height, Percival has the weight advantage. Eventually Credence squirms his way out from under Percival. He heads to the bathroom, stopping on the way to pick up his discarded robe, bending in such a way to give Percival a wonderful view. The sound of the tub filling drifts through the open doorway. After a moment, Credence appears in the frame. 

“Don’t you think a warm bath will help you relax after a long day?” He asks, pretending to be innocent. Coyness is a good look on him. 

Percival grins and even laughs. After a moment of stretching, he rises to join Credence in the bath.

**Author's Note:**

> [Visit me at my Tumblr](http://themunchking.tumblr.com/)


End file.
